


Silentium

by HuiLian



Series: Noctuis [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: ASL, Batman! Dick, Talon! Dick, hope i get those right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: Moments in time, where Cassandra discovered who Dick Grayson really is.





	Silentium

**Author's Note:**

> Talon! AU!!!! I have always been mesmerized by it. A big thank you to CaramelMachete for beta-ing this fic. Hope you enjoy!

 

The two of them didn't need words. Both were adept at reading each other. Cassandra's first language was movement, and Dick has always been good at reading body language. It was just amplified by the Owls.

They could spend an entire patrol without a single word between them. A single glance, a meaningful gesture, was all they needed. Like now.

It was a trafficking ring. They were on Crime Alley, preparing to do a bust. Nightwing and Batgirl stood on the roof of the base' opposite building, standing by for the guard's shift to end.

There. The first shift has ended. Nightwing smiled. He tilted his head towards Batgirl. She nodded, then stepped forward. A slight tension on her shoulders. A stilted stance. She breathed once, twice.

Then she struck.

Nightwing was right behind her. The two of them worked together perfectly. Not a single punch missed its target, not a single stumble on their steps. Between the two of them, they made quick work of the guards.

Once every single man was down, Batgirl went to tie them up. She expected Nightwing to help her, but he didn't. She looked towards him, and saw agitation. She glanced around the room. Ah. There were _children_ among the hostages. She understood.

She went to free the hostages, while Nightwing tied the guards. He was tense, trying to keep himself from simply beating them to a pulp. Cass could sympathize. She wanted to hurt them too. She couldn't imagine what this must be like to Nightwing.

After all the hostages were free and save, and all the guards were taken care of, they needed to call this in. That was the most hated part of the job, for both of them. Nightwing because he didn't know whether his voice would work or not this time. Batgirl because her words were still hard to come out. This time, however, Batgirl took the phone. She didn't have to be able to read bodies to know that Nightwing would not be able to handle this call.

"911, what is your emergency?" a woman's voice rang out.

"Batgirl...Crime Alley... bust...," Cass painstakingly got out.

Thankfully, by now, the 911 operators of Gotham were well versed in vigilante. "Okay. A bust in Crime Alley. Sending a team there now. Where precisely in Crime Alley, Batgirl?"

"West... 20th Street."

"Are there hostages?"

"Yes."

"Are they safe?"

"Yes."

"Are _you_ safe?"

"Yes."

"The police has been notified. ETA 5 minutes."

"Thank...you."

Nightwing smiled at her the whole time she was speaking. Pride, joy, and delight was in every part of his body. Batgirl smiled back, even though the cowl covered her face. She was sure that Nightwing would be able to know.

They continued the patrol after that, joyful and happy even in the midst of all the crime in Gotham.

***

Dick was the first one to succeed in teaching her words. The others fail because they teach her spoken words, words she never knew before. Dick taught her words you make with your hands. It was close enough to what she used to do. The difference between her language and this one was that this one, everyone could understand.

When she first came to Gotham, she knew nothing of words. Cain didn't think it was necessary for her to be able to speak, and everyone she had met since then wasn't interested in teaching her. Her only language was movement. The way people stand, which muscles were tensed, which shoulder were lowered, she was fluent in that.

Then Bruce took her in. Then nobody understood her. In the years she spent on the streets, she never noticed that only she understood what she said.

Barbara tried to teach her words. She tried. She tried. She gave her picture cards and videos and nights devoted solely to coaching her how to speak.

It didn't work. She didn't know Barbara's language, and Barbara didn't know hers. There was no bridge between them. She couldn't get what Barbara taught her. After a few weeks of no progress at all, Barbara was frustrated, she was frustrated, and Bruce was exasperated.

Dick saw this and somehow, he devised a truly genius way to teach her. He knew her language was movement, so he didn't even try to teach her spoken words. He taught her gestures, and what each gesture meant.

At first, he used gestures so clear, anyone could understand them. He did it one word at a time, with someone else in the room, until she knew that this hand-words were understood, and that she could use them.

_Thirst_.

Dick put his hand on his throat, and drew a trickle of water going down. Alfred saw it, and gave Dick a glass of water. Cassandra watched.

_Book_.

Dick clasped his hand, then open it to make the shape of a book. Tim smiled at Dick, then went to fetch a book for them to read together. Cassandra watched.

_Forget_.

Barbara asked Dick a question, and he put his hand on his forehead, swiped it across, and finish with his hand in a fist next to his head. Barbara rapped his forehead while grumbling all the way. Cassandra watched.

_Thank you_.

Alfred gave Dick a cup of hot chocolate, and he put his hand on his chin, then lowered so that it was parallel to the floor. Alfred smiled at him. Cassandra watched.

Then it grew to be words that was a little bit vague. He still did it one word at a time, and still with someone else in the room.

_Brother_.

Dick came to the Manor, and immediately put his hand to his head, then dragged it down to meet his other hand on his chest. Tim laughed, and ran to hug him. Cassandra watched.

_Easy._

Bruce asked him if he could take care of a case. Dick put both his hands to his chest, then move his right hand in a circle. Bruce nodded. Cassandra watched.

_Nothing._

Alfred gave Dick and Tim a withering look. Pieces of china were all around them. Dick made a circle with his fingers, then pulled them out then back in again. Alfred sighed. Cassandra watched.

One word at a time. Dick showed her how to say it, and at the same time, he showed that other people understood what he said. He kept doing it, and over time, her repertoire of words grew.

The first time Cass used that hand-words, the rest of the family was shocked and a little bit awed, while Dick gave her the most blinding smile.

He put both his hands up, palms facing his chest, then moved them in a circular motion. _Happy_.

(Later, she learned that the hand-words were called ASL, and there are millions of people who speak that language.)

(Later, she learned that Dick Grayson had painstakingly learned that language all on his own, and didn't want her to do the same. (Much, much later, she learned that he knew what it's like to not be understood, and wanted to spare her the pain.))

***

Cass preferred hand-to-hand. She was skilled in all areas of fighting, her abilities and David Cain's training made sure of that. But, if she had to choose, she would choose hand-to-hand over any kind of fighting.

In hand-to-hand, she could read her opponents better. There were nothing else to pay attention to, and they were closer. Everything was on full display.

Also, she was better at it than Dick, just slightly. It was enough, however, to make her gloat about being a better fighter.

Then she saw Dick with a fight. Really fight.

It had been a case. Tim was taken. Tim, not Robin. The distinction was important for Bruce. The distinction was important for Dick, and Barbara, and Alfred. Cassandra couldn't see the importance of that difference.

But then they had him for days. Robin should be able to ran away from the kidnappers just fine. But it wasn't Robin they took. It was Tim Drake, and Tim Drake had no fighting skill whatsoever.

There were no ransom call. No claim from the regular villains of Gotham. No sign of Tim. When this was over, Cassandra would make sure _Tim Drake_ knew how to fight.

Bruce was out of his mind with worry. He worked hours into the night that it became morning, trying to track the kidnappers. Dick, he was furious. Keyboards and computer screens broke before Bruce sent him to the gym to get it out. Then the ones that was broken was gym bags.

Cassandra? She couldn't do the detective work either, not yet. So she kept Dick company in the gym.

Finally, Bruce had a lead. Three man. Professionals. The motive was simple. Showing the world that money didn't hold as much power as people think they do. The modus operandi? Kidnapping children of billionaires. And then they were going to kill them. Publicly.

When Bruce briefed them, just before the mission, Cass saw red. Kidnapping was bad enough, but killing children? Children whose only sin was to be born to money. That, that was worse. But even her reaction paled to Dick's. He was vibrating with barely concealed fury. It was terrifying.

Dick put on his suit. Cassandra followed. The three of them went into the Batwing, all vowing to bring the kidnappers down.

Ten men. Heavily armed. Thirty hostages, including Tim, all tied and blindfolded.

Nine of the men were pulling children to their feet, while one was starting a truck on the outside.

Oh no. They were going to do it today. They were going to kill them today.

Cassandra looked towards Batman and Nightwing. They knew. Cassandra could see it from the way Batman had his jaws clenched tight, and the was Nightwing's grip on his escrima was just shy of breaking them.

"Agent A, we're doing the extraction now," Batman said into his com.

"Sir? Wasn't the plan..."

"To hell with the plan. They are going to do it now."

"Do what now? ...Oh." Cassandra felt, more than heard, the horror on Alfred's voice. "Understood, sir. Should I call the local police?"

"Yes. But we're going in now."

Batman turned towards Nightwing. Nightwing gave him a nod. He then turned towards Batgirl, a questioning look in his eyes. He didn't need it. Cassandra would go inside right now, if she could save one of this children.

Batman held up three fingers. Two. One. They struck.

Batman took three of the men. Nightwing took three. That left three for Batgirl. She smiled.

She crouched low, and one man hit the other one with his punch. A sweep from her leg tackled another one. She spun around, and hit the first man in his face.

One of them got up again. Batgirl took his gun and jammed it into his face. He went down.

But two of the men had some good sense. One of them launched himself at her, while the other one went behind. But even that wouldn't work. She elbowed the one behind her and ducked, letting the two on them fell on each other.

"Batgirl! Secure the hostages!"

Oh no. The one starting the truck came back. They need to save the hostages. Batgirl hit the man still standing to make him go down, and ran towards the hostages.

She was too late.

"Stop. Or this one dies," the man said. The one in the man's arms was Tim. Batgirl stopped in her tracks.

Fortunately for them, Nightwing didn't. He ran towards the man and slammed his escrima on the man's arms fast enough before he even realized he was there, and hard enough to break the man's hold on Tim. Too hard. She heard the stick broke.

"Go," he signed with one hand. She understood the meaning though.

"No."

"Batgirl! The hostages!" Tim shouted.

"Go," he signed again. Batgirl curled her lips, but went to the hostages.

She cut through all of their bonds easily, and lead them all to safety. All of the guards were occupied with Nightwing. She didn't stop to watch. Not yet.

After all the hostages were safe, she returned. And she watched.

Nightwing fought like he was possessed. She had never seen him fight like that. All the self-restraint and good humor was gone. Only lethal precision was left. Somehow, the broken escrima switched into a pair of knives. In it went, to places that cause the most pain and damage.

Every movement Nightwing did was with purpose. It was efficient, it was lethal, it was not Dick. Not a single attack of his missed, and he did not receive a single hit from his opponents. In almost no time at all, all the men were lying on the floor.

It was frightening. Nightwing cut through ten heavily armed men like it was nothing. But what was horrifying was that there were nothing behind Nightwing's eyes. There was always something in his eyes, whether it was joy, or sadness, or fury. But now, now there was nothing in his eyes. It was like the Dick Grayson she knew was just gone.

"Nightwing! Enough!" Batman bellowed.

At the sound of Batman's voice, everything seemed to snap back into place. Nightwing dropped the knives. He looked up, and the blank look was gone. It was replaced with something else. Guilt.

"Come," Batman's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "We need to leave."

Nightwing let out a breath. After what seemed like eternity, he nodded. He went out of the room immediately.

Later, back in the Cave, after everyone had been cleared by Alfred and she had fussed over Tim enough, Cassandra went to find Dick. He was standing near the railing of the Cave, looking down to the chasm below.

_"Teach me"_ , she told to him.

He turned towards her, put on an embarrassingly fake smile, and signed, _'Teach you what?"_

She stared at him.

The smile vanished, replaced by a weary look. He sighed, then signed, " _No._ "

Cass frowned. " _No, Cass_ ," Dick signed again. " _Please don't ask me to do that._ "

Cass tilted her head. Anguish, guilt, and fear screamed at her. And those were just the ones she could see. Normally, Dick was quite good at tempering down his emotion from his body. For her to be able to read it that loud, he must be feeling it intensely.

Cass closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She let it out. She opened her eyes. She nodded, then left.

(She would find out how Dick knew how to fight like that, and why it made guilt formed inside him. When she does, she would bring hell to the people who taught him.)

***

Dick taught her another thing, beside words. He taught her to find beauty in movement. That lesson was even more valuable to her than words.

He taught her how to fly, at first. He taught everyone he considered family how to fly. From Bruce to Barbara to Tim, and even some of his Titan's friends, he taught them all how to fly. Whether they succeeded or not was secondary. Flying was the only thing Dick had left on his parents, aside from his name. It was his way of tying his new family to his old one. If Dick taught you how to fly, you could be certain that Dick thought of you as family.

He approached her one day, a small smile on his lips and excitement written all over him. He nodded to where the rigging was, his smile blossoming as he did so. Cassandra knew what he meant right away. She had heard stories, from Tim and Bruce and Barbara. She smiled back, and followed him to the rigging.

He then began preparing all the equipment. The movement were alien to her, but so obviously familiar to him. He went through it once, then went through it again, and then one more time before he was satisfied with the condition of the trapeze. Cassandra stayed still behind him. She had also heard this story.

After, he looked back to her, and beckoned with his hands. Cassandra followed him.

He guided her up the ladder and help her sit on one of the platforms. The he gripped one of the bar, gave her one last smile, and... flew.

There was no other word for it. He flew. She had never seen anyone move like that. He knew precisely where he will be, knew precisely that he will not fall. Even without a net, he moved with perfect confidence, and from that confidence, grew grace. He flew. Cassandra could not describe it another way.

The performance mesmerized her. She almost wished it didn't end. But end it did, with Dick on the other side of the platform, the picture of elegance, smiling and bowing at her.

He then went down the platform. He pulled something from the edges of the rigging. A net. Cassandra frowned.

He put the net on, checked it once, twice, thrice, then went back up her side of the platform.

When he reached the top, Cassandra could see glee and excitement radiating from him. He put his hand on hers, then guided her to the nearest bar. When she had gripped her bar, he caught her eye and gave her a questioning look. She nodded, and he smiled a fond, yet somehow sad, smile.

Then, they flew. It was not the performance he gave before, but they flew. Cass felt herself giving in to Dick's guiding. She felt save up here, even if Dick hadn't put on the net. She knew that Dick wouldn't let her fall. Even if _somehow_ she fell, Dick would catch her.

It ended the same as Dick's performance, on the other side of the platform. She felt exhilarated. She wanted to do it again.

Dick was only too happy to oblige. They did it again and again, until one time, Dick put her hands on the bar, then stepped back. She gave a startled intake of breath, and looked at him. He gestured with his hands towards the trapeze and gave her a reassuring smile. She was shocked. He expects her to do this alone?

But Dick's smile didn't falter. He gestured again towards the trapeze. She looked at the trapeze, then back at him. He nodded.

She took a deep breath, and jumped.

She tried to do what Dick did with her, but her body didn't, or couldn't, do it. She scrambled to grip the bar, but she missed. She fell down to the waiting net.

Dick was already down. How could she missed him going down? Nevertheless, he was right next to her when she landed on the net. " _First time I fly, I fell too_ ," he signed with a shrug.

She looked at him with disbelief. She couldn't imagine him ever falling. He was at home in the sky, flying from bar to bar.

He gave her a half-shrug. Then he gave her his hand, pulled her up, checked her for injuries, and ushered her back up the platform. She went up the rigging again, and jumped again. Again and again and again, until her muscles were trembling with exhaustion and she was struggling to even stand up.

Dick finally took pity on her. He helped her sit down, then put away the net and the ladder. After all the equipment were where it had been before, he came to where she was sitting. He sat next to her, then put his hand on her knee. He caught her gaze again. His body seemed to be torn between wanting to stay away from her and to reassure her.

She took his hand. He gave a small gasp. But the action seemed to settle the indecision in him. He pulled her close, and gave her a hug. She savored every second of it.

When the hug was over, she realized she had never felt this happy while exhausted at the same time. It was something different. Before, every time she was exhausted, some part of her must be hurting. Whether it was physical, or emotional, some part of her was always hurting if she was exhausted. She was happy now. It was strange.

She wanted to do this again. Dick must have seen that in her, because they flew again the next day. And again, and again, and again.

While he was in the air, he was at home. He was happy. When she flew with him, she could borrow some of his happiness and made it her own.

Second, he gave her dancing. Not gave, not really, but he was the one who took her to the ballet performance. He was the one who bought her classes. He was the one who introduced a whole new world for her.

Dancing was a whole new dialect to a language she thought she had already mastered. It was beautiful. It was elegant, in a way fighting never was. It was mesmerizing.

Dick took her to the ballet, after Bruce died. Funny, she could say that now. Bruce died, Dick took her to the ballet. It was just another fact of life.

Nevertheless, Dick took her to the ballet. Swan Lake, he told her. The moment the show started, she was struck with want. She wanted to learn how to move like them. It was different, so different than what she was used to. It was different than fighting, it was different than flying.

Dick, as always, knew that she wanted it before she even know _she_ wanted it.

_"You like it?"_ he asked.

Cass didn't tear her eyes away from the stage. She responded with only an intake of breath, but she knew Dick understood it.

_"Babs used to do ballet_."

That got a reaction from Cass. She didn't know that. Barbara's way of moving was elegant, as was expected of the former Batgirl, but nothing shows that she used to do _this_.

Dick gave her a sad smile. " _After Joker, she didn't dance anymore_."

Oh. Cassandra could say nothing about that. It made sense. Why would she continue doing what she could never fully enjoy again?

_"Want to learn?"_

_"Yes_ ," she signed back.

Two days later, Dick brought her to the studio.

***

Gotham was in panic. Three of the main bridges have been blown up. Just figured that it happened when Cass was in town. She had to help. She would return to Hong Kong after this, but she could spare a few days to help her siblings manage Gotham.

Besides, she wanted to meet Damian. She wanted to know what he was like, this child that had made Dick so happy. The opportunity came when Dick asked him to stake out Penguin's lounge. Cassandra asked to go with him.

He was _infuriating_. Born and bred for the League of Assassins. Proud. Arrogant. Belittling. How could Dick stand him, much less love him?

She asked Tim. He didn't know either.

Cass wanted to watch Damian. She wanted to dissect him, figure out what part of him made Dick love him so. That will have to wait. Cassandra became aware of people evacuating from Penguin's lounge. She went in. Robin followed.

A bomb. Class five.

Damian said he could dismantle it. Cassandra didn't really believe him, but civilians came first. They always do. Cassandra ushered all of them out. Thankfully, the citizens of Gotham would be inclined to believe anyone with a bat on their chest. She had abandoned the city for far too long for anyone to remember her, and she hadn't gone out much in Gotham in her new costume.

When all of the civilians were out, Damian was still not done.

Not enough time. They need to leave. Now.

Damian wouldn't listen to reason. Well, Cassandra would make him listen. She picked him up in her arms, and climbed out of the building. She almost couldn't register his weight. It was next to nothing in her arms. It was a stark reminder that he was a child. Just a child. Just a child.

Born and bred for the League of Assassins. But just a child, really.

She would strive to remember that, hard as it was.

That was the only reason she didn't simply knock him out when he grabbed her. That was the only reason she tried to placate him after the explosion. That was the only reason she didn't break his legs when he walked straight past Dick. He was just a child.

A child he was, a child Dick loved. How could Dick love him so, when he hurt him with every single word he said? How could Dick bear the burden of Batman when even his own Robin didn't support him?

She could see anguish, even with the Batsuit on. It was not just Damian walking past him. It was Cobblepot telling him Batman was slipping. It was every single person who had ever said that he was not good enough. It was the weight of Gotham, so crudely left to him, when all of his friends and family moved on.

Cassandra wanted to hug Dick, to reassure him that he was doing well as Batman. If Cass was honest, Dick made a better Batman than Bruce. Better for Gotham, better for his Robin, even if Damian hadn't realized it yet.

Before she had the chance, Dick squared his shoulders and pushed on. Cassandra followed.

Back in the Bunker, Tim was explaining May's suit to all of them. Cassandra didn't really pay close attention. Her eyes were fixed on Dick, trying to decipher his thoughts. She still have trouble following a conversation when she was not looking at the person speaking.

Dick was breaking. They had left him all alone in Gotham. Tim left; Bruce, after he returned from time, left; and she left. Most of the person Dick trusted left him alone in Gotham. It was showing its effects now.

Distantly, she heard Damian made a cutting remark about Tim. Then he made another one about her. She decided to tune him out. It was easier that way.

Damian and Tim left to check out a lead. That left Cassandra with Dick, alone.

It should be the perfect moment to ask him how he was doing. It should be the perfect moment to let him know he was doing wonderful as Batman. It should. What really happened what he asked her to watch the security footage of Tommy Elliot.

He was deflecting. Cass would play along, for now.

She watched the footage. She told him what she thought of it. Dick got to work. She followed.

Then they were rushing to the Kane Bridge. No, not the Kane Bridge. Tim and Damian were in trouble.

The man was gone the moment they reached Tim and Damian. They were mostly unharmed, even though Tim got a concussion. Tim got a name for the man, though. The Architect.

Cass left Dick bouncing ideas with Tim. Detective work was never her strong suit. Even more, she saw something in the ruins. She went to retrieve it. Damian noticed, and went to help her.

She didn't think that Damian would help her. A child raised to be the League's prince wouldn't lower himself so. Not just a prince then. She would remember that.

She found a notebook. _Like most beginnings, the future of Gotham started with an explosion_. Not just that. The book was filled with plans, entries from Gate describing how they built the city, how they made the bridges, and in the end, how Gate's brother was murdered while constructing the Kane Bridge.

Red Robin had to go back to the Bunker because of his concussion. Robin accompanied her. Black Bat and Batman went to the Kane Bridge.

On the drive there, Cass asked Dick if this was an overdue vendetta. Dick said no. " _Gotham protects her own."_ There he paused, considering. " _Only her own_." If she could see his eyes, Cass was sure that it would be filled with self-hatred and doubt.

That would not do. This was more than Gotham. _Dick_ was more that Gotham. Tragedies happen to everyone, not just a select few. Gotham was not responsible for all of it.

She told him that. She would have told him more, but The Architect was already on the bridge. They had their hands full with preventing damage to think about that conversation.

Dick went out to the bridge, giving orders to Gordon about evacuations. Meanwhile, Cass had multiple bombs under the bridge to deal with.

The same bombs as the ones of Penguin's lounge. The ones that would detonate faster when she tried to defuse it.

When she was considering the best way to dispose the bombs, Robin appeared next to her. Born and bred for the League, raised to be it's prince, yet also Robin. Cass asked him to trust her. He did.

If they couldn't defuse it, they would just have to detonate it somewhere safe. That logic worked. The bombs exploded a few feet off the bridge, safe on the river. Robin, the only one close enough to the explosion, was fast enough to get out of harm's way.

The two of the resurfaced and climbed the bridge. The Architect was splayed out on the bridge, not a threat anymore. Another disaster averted. Nothing more than a day's work in Gotham.

(In the end, Cassandra didn't return to Hong Kong. Hong Kong was good, but Gotham was better. Besides, she missed her family. Tim, Steph, Dick, Barbara, Bruce, and Alfred. Even Damian was starting to grow on her.)

(Dick was better now. The anguish was not as potent. Cassandra would just have to check on him once in a while. It _had_ been a while since their last flying session.)

***

They shouldn't exist anymore. The Court of Owls. They shouldn't. Bruce told her he had ended them all those years ago.

But here they were, ready to snatch Dick from them again.

These were the people who had taken Dick. These were the ones who taught him how to fight lethally. These were the ones who put the guilt in his eyes. These were the ones who had dared to interfere with their lives again.

Cassandra wouldn't let them. Not just her. All of her family was ready to fight. And this time, this time the Court would be so fully destroyed, all memory of them would be gone.

***

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr (huilian.tumblr.com)


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